Born Necromancers
by Jake
Summary: A new enemy, a very old weapon, and the nature of vampires revealed.
1. Downgrade in the Food Chain

Title: Born Necromancers  
Author: Jake  
Rating: PG-13

SPOILERS: **MOONLIGHT** episode 1.03 "Dr. Feelgood"  
** MOONLIGHT** episode 1.06 "B.C."  
_ What Good Is A Glass Dagger? _copyright (C) 1971 by Larry Niven

DISCLAIMER: This is just a fanfic. I make no money here. All characters from** MOONLIGHT** are the property of Warner Brothers Television and CBS (Columbia Broadcasting System).

A/N: This fanfic was inspired when I realized that the vampires of **MOONLIGHT** would fit perfectly into Larry Niven's **Warlock's World** fantasy series.  
The fanfic is canon for at least the first six episodes of **MOONLIGHT**. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1

"We have a problem," said Josef Konstantin in his serious voice.

Mick St. John sighed. "Josef, why does every other visit with you eventually lead to a problem?"

"Because you're a trouble magnet?" Josef parried, now smiling.

"I'M the trouble magnet?" asked Mick incredulously.

"OK, let's not quibble over whose fault this is--not mine, by the way. The point is . . . we have a real problem." Josef was all seriousness again.

Mick took a hefty sip of the cognac from Josef's drink cabinet and he set down his glass. "I'm listening."

"There's a new bloodsucker in town . . . that preys on vampires."

Mick sat up straight and studied his ancient friend carefully. He decided that this wasn't one of Josef's little jokes. Josef actually looked concerned.

"This isn't another Lola situation, is it?" Mick recalled the unpleasant memory of his fatal encounter with Josef's old girlfriend, who had started killing other vampires in order to drain their blood and sell it to humans as a drug. A very potent and potentially lethal drug. Lola was a danger to vampires and humans alike. Mick didn't regret killing her one bit.

"No, this--creature--is doing to us what we do to humans," Josef answered.

"But there's no life in our blood. You know it, I know it, every vampire knows it. That's why we never feed on each other."

"Which is why this thing can't be one of us. It's something new, and it has to be stopped before it reproduces. Fingers crossed that it hasn't done that already. If there's a whole pack of these things, we're done for."

"Tell me what you know." Josef was Mick's main source of news in the vampire world, because Mick spent most of his waking hours working for and interacting with the living, not the undead.

"Last night, the Cleaner and her crew were called to a scene by a vampire who found two bodies. One was human and the other was a vampire. The necropsies revealed that most of the mortal's blood was in the vampire's belly. It wasn't even partially digested, which means the vampire was attacked while he was still feeding. And all of the vampire's blood was missing." Josef paused to see Mick's reaction.

". . . And?" asked Mick.

"And his throat was torn open. His attacker didn't drink from the human. There was still blood in _that_ body." Josef paused again to drain his glass of cognac and pour himself a refill. He offered the bottle to Mick, which was declined. "Mick, you're probably the last one of us to hear about this. One of the downsides of hanging out with the sunbathers as much as you do. But now you know."

Before Mick could respond, one of Josef's vampire assistants knocked at the study door. Josef said "Enter." The assistant silently handed him a piece of paper, then turned and left. Josef briefly read the paper before speaking again to Mick. "Two more bodies found tonight . . . both vampires."


	2. The Devil We Don't Know

Chapter 2

The next day, Josef played host to a meeting requested by the Cleaner. In addition to the clean-up crew, Josef and Mick, there were a score of other vampires in the meeting. There was also a haggard vampire with a bandage around his throat. Mick guessed correctly that one of the previous night's "bodies" had survived.

"Thank you all for coming," said the Cleaner. "Before we hear from Mr. Randell, here's what we know about our threat so far. The wounds on all three victims are identical. They are all to the jugulars, they're all the same size . . . and they were made by human teeth."

The shocked looks throughout the room were matched by the audible cursing and intakes of breath.

"Order, please, ladies and gentlemen," said Josef. "Please continue, Madam."

"Thank you, Josef," the Cleaner replied. "I think it best that we hear from Mr. Randell at this time."

The tall, wounded vampire stood up, a little shaky at first but he stiffened up readily enough. He was determined to tell what he knew. "Lenny and I were walking through the park, just looking for a freshie, when suddenly this guy steps out from behind a tree and says 'Hi'. Big stupid grin. And he didn't smell right. Not like one of us but not really human either." He paused for a moment, shaken by the memory of the strange smell.

"Before we could move a muscle, the guy backhands me into a tree and he grabs Lenny. By the time I shake the stars outta my head, Lenny is on the ground, not moving, and the guy grabs me and picks me up like I weighed nothing." Randell paused again to drink from the glass of wine and blood Josef had handed him before the meeting started.

"He's grinning at me and I see those normal human teeth, red with Lenny's blood. Then I see his eyes and I just about pass out again. They had turned jet black all over, like shark eyes. You see those kinda eyes on people in horror flicks, not in real life." Randell actually shuddered.

"How strong was he, Mr. Randell?" interjected a vampire Mick didn't know.

"I felt as helpless as I did when I got turned. I struggled but it was like a kid struggling against a grown weightlifter, except this time I just knew I was never gonna wake up again. I'll never scare my prey again . . . that feeling just ain't right."

Everybody knew that was a futile promise. When the feed is upon you, you do whatever it takes to subdue your prey. But nobody made any derisive sounds. Nobody wanted to divert Randell from his retelling of crucial details.

"Then he bites me in the neck, drinks a bit, then he stops. He looked as surprised as I was, not being able to continue. I guess Lenny filled him up. He gets a mean look on his face and slams me back into the tree. That's the last thing I remember before waking up with the pretty lady there looking down at me." The Cleaner smiled briefly at the flirtatious compliment.

Josef decided this was a good time to interrupt. "Can you describe your attacker for us, Mr. Randell?"

"Sure . . . white guy, slender build, a little shorter than average, maybe 5 foot 6. Brown hair, mid length . . . I guess I didn't really notice his eye color before the attack, before they turned all black. But they coulda been light colored."

_Great_, thought Mick. _Typical eye witness report: partly accurate, partly guesswork, and often no way of knowing which was which until you had the culprit in front of you._ But a vampire was generally a better observer of details than a human, so Mick trusted the hair color. And he trusted the size. Nobody talks about being smacked around by a small guy unless it's the truth.

The muttering in the room grew louder until the Cleaner called for order again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I asked for this meeting not only to inform you about what we are up against, but to ask for your help." When she told them what she required, there was a great deal of skepticism. But they all agreed to cooperate, if it meant ending the threat.


	3. Plan B

Chapter 3

After the meeting broke up, the clean-up crew and Mick stayed behind as prearranged. They hashed out the details of the plan.

"Mick, this is going to be extremely dangerous. Are you sure you don't want my men to go with you?" the Cleaner asked.

"I'm sure. We have a better chance of drawing him in if there's just me. Just make sure your guys have everything in place."

"We will," she promised, and the clean-up crew left.

After pouring drinks and handing one to Mick, Josef said "We may not have to depend entirely on this crazy scheme. There is an alternative." He reached far back into the cabinet below the drink bar and brought out a steel lock box, which he then unlocked and opened for Mick to see. Mick stared in surprise.

"I've always liked that Boy Scout motto: Be Prepared," Josef said with a smile.

Mick picked up the black pistol and examined it. He hadn't held a gun in decades but the old familiar feel of a pistol grip came back almost instantly. The box held the semiautomatic pistol, several full magazines and a black leather shoulder holster.

Josef said "Don't touch the bullets. They're silver. And they're hollow points so they spread and don't exit the target body." Josef had obviously been prepared for some kind of attack, human or vampiric, for some time. "Whatever you do, don't shoot yourself in the foot."

Mick chuckled at the friendly jibe, then he strapped on the shoulder holster. His jacket concealed the gun completely. The spare clips went into his jacket pockets.

"If this doesn't work, you better pack your bags and leave L.A.," he said grimly. "I would join you, but I'll probably be dead."


	4. The Craft and the Vessel

Chapter 4

Madelyn was a witch. Not a capable witch, but that really wasn't her fault. She grew up in a family of a long line of witches, and she dutifully learned all the spells and witchcraft history lessons. But capable witches also have a rare, natural affinity for magic, and one of the necessary genes was missing from Madelyn's body. It happened even in families of witches.

And in a _mana_-exhausted world, what difference did it make anyway? Ages ago, the earth was rich in _mana_--the power behind magic--and there were all types of miracles and magical beings. But _mana_ was a finite resource in the world and like any other finite resource, it can be used up . . . and it was.

Beings which had metabolisms that were partly or wholly based on magic went mythical when the natural _mana_ in the earth was used up. The gods were the first to go. They used up _mana_ at a fierce rate, and when the overall level dropped to a certain point, they could no longer maintain. Other beings like demons, dragons, centaurs and fairies weren't very far behind the gods in going mythical. Human wizards depleting _mana_ by performing countless feats of magic, big and small, helped hasten their demise.

Ever since, there have been only two sources of magic on earth. One source is the extremely rare _mana_-rich meteorite that falls out of the sky. And the other is the only way on earth to create new _mana_. Sacrifice.

There is _mana_ in animal sacrifice . . . and more _mana_ in human sacrifice. There is something in the anguish of a sacrifice victim that allows the conversion of their fading lifeforce into_mana_, provided that there is a catalyst to spark the conversion. In the old days, a wizard--a human with a natural affinity for _mana_ and the acquired skill to utilize it--was the most commonly available catalyzer, although many were unwilling to resort to sacrifice for_mana_, even when it was vanishing from the earth.

Some of those who were willing to sacrifice became the first necromancers--sorcerers who use magic powered by murder--because they weren't going to restrict themselves to animals whenever humans were available whose disappearance would cause no uproar.

Madelyn's family swore many generations ago to never harm an innocent human being, but there were animal sacrifices from time to time to cast small spells or to make small charms, or to test a young child for witch talent. Only one of their children in four had what it took to be a capable witch, still far above the general human ratio of one in a thousand. But all of the children were taught to respect witchcraft and to recognize the real thing when they saw it.

Most importantly, they were all equipped to sense _mana_, because they never knew when they might come across an unclaimed meteorite, a treasure to bring back to the family.

So it was when Madelyn discovered her _mana_. She was shopping among the stalls in the village square when her necklace charm started itching between her breasts. She looked down and saw the subtle color change in the charm that indicated a nearby source of strong _mana_ . . . the strongest she'd ever seen or felt. Just as quickly, both the color change and the itch were fading. The source was moving. She looked around and spotted a young man who'd just walked past her. She thought it possible that he carried a sizable meteorite somewhere on his person . . . but she doubted it.

She knew that vampires were the last _mana_-based beings in the world. They spontaneously catalyze the conversion of the lifeforce in living blood into the _mana_ in vampire blood that sustains them. How else could a corpse become undead, and continue so?

All of which means vampires are supernatural-born necromancers. But they cannot perform external magic using their own _mana_. Every bit of it goes toward maintaining their metabolisms.

To use vampire blood to power a spell, it must first be removed from its original vessel.

Madelyn watched the vampire as he casually strolled away, enduring the late afternoon sun on his face and hands. She fearfully recalled a grim decision that she'd made years before. She briefly touched the silver-inlaid dagger that she always carried when away from home. Then she followed the young-looking vampire into a tavern.


	5. The Crusader

Chapter 5

Ivan Marginea thought that maybe he should take a night off. _I'm getting reckless already, taking on two of the monsters at once._ Sure, it'd been easy, but he'd been unable to drain both of them. Had there been more around, he might have been overpowered.

Worse, he probably left a witness. It didn't occur to him until after he fled the scene that the creature would probably survive an impact that would kill a human. _Still thinking like a human could get me killed_, he thought soberly. _But I AM still human, dammit! It isn't I who can't go out in daylight, and who has to avoid silver lest it kill me. And I'm not killing human beings, I'm killing the monsters that prey on human beings!_

All his life he was fascinated by vampires, and he couldn't understand it . . . until now. He didn't give a tinker's damn about other types of monsters or horrors, but vampires enthralled him.

However, not in an attractive way. He hated vampires!

_Is it sane to hate something that isn't real?_ he started asking himself years ago. His father had apparently gone insane, committing suicide when his wife was barely pregnant by soaking himself with gasoline and setting himself on fire in a graveyard. Only a crazy man would do that. His mother didn't like talking about his father's death, but she'd hinted once when Ivan was young that maybe his father had a good reason for doing what he did . . . something about a deadly, incurable disease. She subconsciously rubbed the bite scar on her forearm when she said it, and Ivan noticed. To the day she died, she never mentioned the subject again, and her son never pressed her. However he still worried about inherited insanity.

But now he knew that his fascination--and his hatred--had a reason. He wasn't crazy. He'd been Chosen. Just like the fictional vampire slayers of Hollywood, he had been Chosen to kill vampires, but in the real world.

Now that he'd been transformed, he pieced together that his father was a vampire, and he had proof that the only good vampires are dead vampires. _That's why Dad committed suicide. The good ones always do._ The ones who don't, are proven evil by their own selfish desires to continually prey on the living.

A bloodsucker had turned his father into one of them. The father knew that one day he could no longer control the urge to feed on his wife and his unborn child, so he did the right thing. Ivan believed his father died a hero. Ivan would not disappoint him.

_So fitting that one of_ them _should be the agent for my Becoming,_ thought Ivan for the hundredth time since his metamorphosis. And he recalled Club Valis . . . and Lola's intriguing new "drug".

A "drug" that had an entirely different effect on a dhampir than it had on a pure human.


	6. The Target

Chapter 6

Mick was enduring his third uneventful night as bait, and he was just as angry at the predator for wasting his time as he was for posing danger. He didn't like turning away clients because he had to deal with a new threat to vampires. _Lola isn't even old news yet, dammit!_

Almost all of the city's vampires had gone to ground. They were living off blood from butcher shops, doing all their shopping in the daytime and using sick or vacation days to take time off from their night jobs. Nobody wanted to be the next target. That was Mick's job.

He traveled repeatedly over an area that enclosed both attack sites. If the killer struck again outside of that area, the plan would have to be modified. Until then, it was the only hope he had of drawing the killer out.

The men Mick encountered who matched Randell's description were all decidedly human . . . no peculiar odors or behaviors about them at all. To break the monotony, he took to the rooftops to get an aerial view of the people who moved around in the night. His vampire senses and brain processed the constantly changing throng like no human could.

That's when he spotted a blond man staring at him from the ground. Mick was on a rooftop and standing in shadows. Nobody human would know he was there, especially a human wearing sunglasses at night like this character was. But the guy was staring right at him as if Mick had a neon sign over his head that read **VAMPIRE HERE**.

Mister Sunglasses-at-night was a perfect match for Randell's size description, but the hair . . . . _Dye job, or a wig,_ Mick realized. _I hate it when they're smart._


	7. The Hunt

Chapter 7

Ivan had been cursing himself almost steadily for taking a night off after his last kill. Now the vampires had gone into hiding like the cowards they were. Finally this night, he spotted a vampire on a rooftop--and the bloodsucker uncannily spotted him in return!

To Ivan's changed eyes, the monster stood out like a man-sized flare, even through the sunglasses. Vampires could creep in shadows all they wanted, he would still See them just as surely as he would see a full moon in a cloudless night sky.

But maintaining his Sight--his _**see vampires**_ sight--almost full time while searching had meant a steady drain on his Power, and when he began the chase, that would drain more Power. Human food would maintain his life, but only vampire blood would maintain his Power. It was essential that he have a successful hunt this night.


	8. The Rooftop

Chapter 8

The man on the ground smiled at Mick and lowered his sunglasses just long enough for Mick to see his pitch-black eyeballs. Then he crossed the street, coming toward the building Mick stood on.

It took a vampire not much more time to ascend to the top of a mid-size building than it took a human to fall from that top to the bottom. Mick would not be surprised if his hunter was just as fast. With that in mind, he ran and jumped to the next rooftop, then he looked back in time to see his pursuer climb over the edge of the roof he'd just left. _Not good_, Mick thought, and started running again.

The dhampir was slowly closing distance with the vampire as they ran and leapt from rooftop to rooftop.

On the last rooftop before open space, Mick didn't run to the other end. Instead he came to a stop and whirled around to face his pursuer. Just as the hunter leaped across the gap between the last two roofs, Mick drew his pistol and fired. The hunter screamed as the silver slugs slammed into his body and he crashed on Mick's roof instead of landing.

Mick emptied his first clip into his enemy, into both the head and the back right above the heart. He released the empty clip and had a fresh clip rammed into the pistol before the empty one hit the rooftop. He proceeded to fire every round from the second clip into the downed predator.

Then Mick saw the impossible. There was almost no blood loss, and the predator was still moving and moaning. Any human or vampire would be thoroughly dead, but Mick saw the slugs from the first clip emerging from their entry wounds and falling onto the rooftop.

His worst fear about this enemy was born. Everything would depend on the initial plan.


	9. The Warehouse

Chapter 9

Mick fired his final clip of silver bullets into the prone body before he called the Cleaner.

"This is the Cleaner."

"This is Mick. He's found me. We're going to location A."

"Understood. We're at B now, we'll be ready at A in five minutes at the outside. Good luck, Mick." She hung up without waiting for a response.

Mick waited until the groaning predator's body had shed itself of most of the silver bullets before he began a deliberately noisy descent from the rooftop in the desired direction. It was essential that the hunt continue.

He was only a block and a half from the shooting site when he saw the hunter look out over the roof edge. Mick made no attempt to hide himself, and the hunter made no pretense of not noticing him. Mick began moving toward "location A", the closest of the confrontation sites the team had chosen.

The ground chase was uneventful, except to the few startled pedestrians and motorists who saw two human shapes running at humanly impossible speeds through the darkness.

Mick arrived at one of Josef's recently rented warehouses and dove right through a closed window next to the front door. He moved immediately to a sheet-covered mound in the center of the warehouse floor. Next to it lay a rope. Mick stepped into a loop at one end of the rope, pulled it up to his chest and cinched it behind him. Then he uncovered the mound and picked up his final weapon. It didn't look like much. Mick's skepticism almost got the better of him, but he didn't run away. It was time for the showdown.

As soon as his opponent arrived, Mick held up the metal disk and said "Anam".


	10. Older Than Babylon

Chapter 10

Ivan had closed the gap with his prey to a hundred feet before the monster went through a warehouse window. Ivan went right through the same window as the vampire. He saw him standing in the middle of the warehouse next to a small pile of bags, holding something and speaking a single strange word.

Ivan didn't slow down as he dove directly at his prey. Then he was stopped. In mid-leap!

He was frozen in mid-air . . . almost frozen. He could still move his head, he could still breathe, but his arms, his hands and everything from his waist to his shoes were trapped in invisible concrete. He was just a few feet from the vampire, who seemed to be likewise trapped.

Floating inches above the vampire's outstretched hand was a small disk that was slowly rotating but picking up speed. "What ... is _that_?!" asked Ivan plaintively.

Mick took satisfaction in his enemy's dismay, but he also felt a little pity. "Something older than known civilization. It's called a Warlock's Wheel, an updated version. It sucks up _mana_. I'm told that's the technical name for supernatural energy."

"_Mana_?" the helpless hunter asked.

Mick ignored the question. "The wheel was already prepared with spells, so all I had to do was say the magic word. It spins faster and faster without limit until all the _mana_ in an area around it is used up. A second spell keeps it from coming apart until the first spell does its damage. And a third spell--the update--immobilizes the bodies of any beings containing _mana_ within the spell range of the wheel. Beings like you and me.

"That clever lady you can see behind me used to be a human witch. And she guessed what you are right off. An abomination that shouldn't have been born."

"YOU'RE THE _ABOMINATION_! YOU'RE ALL _MONSTERS_!!" yelled Ivan.

Mick pursed his lips, knowing that his opponent wasn't the only one inside the immobilization spell who'd had those thoughts. Then he said softly "You're not the first to say it, dhampir. You won't be the last. Anyway, too bad you didn't bring any friends. I did." Mick shouted "ANY TIME, FELLAS."

Ivan saw the rope tighten around the vampire's chest as he was pulled away from the wheel by two male vampires at the rear of the warehouse. The Cleaner--whom no one there knew as Madelyn--just stood and watched the dhampir like he was a somewhat interesting bug in a distant jar.

The whirling disc was glowing red by the time Mick was completely out of spell range. He retreated to the rear of the warehouse where the clean-up crew waited.

Four of the five occupants of the warehouse watched with awe as the wheel went from orange to yellow to blinding white. Madelyn had seen it all before.

Finally, the Warlock's Wheel exploded into metal vapor. Ivan's last remnants of _mana_ saved him from the blast and he fell straight down with a painful thud. His clothes were smoldering and he had to roll away from the burning bags of donated vampire blood, now decomposed from long-past death that was no longer held at bay.

His Sight was gone and his sight was blurred, but he could still see the four humanoid shapes nonchalantly walking toward him.

_Mother . . . Father . . . I'm coming to join you. We'll all be together soon._

THE END


End file.
